


The Houseguests (or Birds of a Feather)

by MrsHamill



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-20 22:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6028513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Rodney will hatch his eggs if it kills him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Houseguests (or Birds of a Feather)

**Author's Note:**

> DUDE. They're HOUSE FINCHES. I cannot _believe_ I wrote this. What is it about the SGA fandom that inspires so much crack? Dolphins, penguins, polar bears, furniture, flowers, [_ice cubes_](http://darsynia.livejournal.com/93658.html#cutid1) ...

Rodney was hungry. He was soooo hungry. His little stomach hurt, the hunger pangs zinging through him. But he couldn't move, he had a Mission, and he had to stay right where he was, regardless of how hungry he was. 

So, so hungry.

He sighed, resigned to his fate. He should have known it would happen, Sam was too good for him, he was not good enough for her, whatever. So he would Stay the Course, he'd stay put, he'd finish what they started --

"Hey, whatcha doing?"

\--because to not do so would be... "What?"

"Whatcha doing?" 

It was another male, breast red from the berries Rodney could see but not eat. His head feathers were sticking up in little tufts. He looked ridiculous and Rodney turned away. "What does it look like I'm doing? Now go away. This is my nest and my eggs."

"But you've been sitting there for _ages_. Where's the missus?" The male hopped from one foot to the other on top of the porch light. Sam had said it was an ideal place for eggs, because it was so warm.

"She's not here," Rodney replied, his voice as testy as his stomach was empty. "Which should be obvious. Now _go away_."

"She left you? With the eggs? That's not very fair. My name's John, by the way. What's yours?"

"She didn't _leave me_... or sorta..." Rodney trailed off. "My name is Rodney and _you_ need to _leave._ I'm not abandoning my eggs."

"Well 'course not," John said scornfully. He hopped to the other foot, turning his face to one side and back. His beak was quite shiny and well-cared-for. Not that Rodney noticed. "They're _eggs_. How many you got?"

Rodney sighed. "If you _must_ know, there are four. Now won't you--"

"Four? Wow. That's great! What do you want? Males or females? Hey, you could have two of each!"

"Are you insane?" Rodney glared at the other bird... okay, at _John_. Whatever. "Why aren't you going away?"

"I dunno." John hopped to the other foot. "I guess cuz you looked sad. And you've been sitting there for _ages_ and I wondered why. Aren't you hungry?"

"I'm starving," Rodney replied before he could stop himself. "And it's no business of yours." He fluffed himself out so he looked bigger (and nicer, not that it mattered). 

"Well, you should go eat, then. Where's the missus? I know you didn't lay those eggs all by yourself."

Rodney slumped, giving up. He was just too hungry to care about anything. "If you _must_ know, Sam is... gone." He let his feathers go flat and his head drooped. "There was... there was a... a cat."

"Ohhh..." John bobbed his head and hopped again. "Oh... that bites. I'm sorry. That's really tough. I mean, with you stuck with the eggs and all."

_Tell me about it_ , Rodney thought, but didn't say. Instead, he settled himself more firmly into the nest, waiting impatiently for the little tickle that would mean an egg was hatching. It couldn't be _that_ much longer, could it? "Hey, do you know how long it takes eggs to hatch?"

"What, you don't know?" John sounded amused.

"Well, it's not..."

"It's your first clutch, isn't it?" John was almost dancing, his beak (which really was shiny and well-cared-for) was clacking in laughter.

"What difference does that make?" Rodney demanded.

John fluffed. "Not much, I guess. I don't really know either. Hey, my ma was a single parent too!"

"She was?" Wow, so Rodney wasn't alone in his martyrdom.

"Yep." John hopped and hopped. "Hey, stay right there. I'll be right back." John back-winged elegantly off the porch light and flew away.

"No, I'm planning on migrating to Mexico," Rodney said sourly. Where else would he be? Where would he go? He fluffed himself again and sighed. Any day now, the eggs could hatch. Any minute now. Any second--"

"Hey!" John's voice was muffled and Rodney looked up. He had a huge...

"A sunflower seed?" Rodney's little heart was beating a tango and he could just smell the chewey goodness. "Where did you...?"

John fluffed himself. Except for the little tuft of backwards head-feathers, he really was a good looking bird. "Feeder, just down there. Here." He tossed the seed to Rodney, who caught it reflexively. "You can have it."

"But..." But it tasted as good as it smelled and Rodney's stomach clenched.

"Nah, go ahead. I had a bunch. I saved this one for later, but you can have it. I think you need it more than I do."

Rodney was a pragmatic bird and didn't argue. His stomach was in transports of joy and he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring it. When he opened them back up, John was still hopping from one foot to the other, watching him from the top of the porch light. "Thank you," he murmured.

"Aw, you're welcome. Wait there, I'll be right back."

The next time it was one of the little red fruits from the nearby tree, and the time after that it was a dandelion seed cluster. The sun was starting to go down when John said, "Hey, listen, I can't bring you water, but if you wanna go hit up the creek, I'll... uh... egg-sit for you. If you want." He ducked his head and fluffed himself out.

Rodney was floored. "Really?"

"Sure! Look, my ma, she was a single parent, and I remember how hard it was for her to bring us food and to fight off those asshole sparrows all by herself. So... yeah. If you want. You can trust me, Rodney."

Maybe he shouldn't, a little voice said in the back of his brain, but maybe he should, his heart said. "O... okay. If you're sure." He carefully stood up (and wow, weren't his legs cramped from all the sitting!) and hopped carefully out of the way. 

Just as carefully, John slid down the metal side of the light, landing gently in the nest. "Wow, they're warm!"

"Yeah, they need to stay that way too." Rodney was nervous, watching John with a wary eye. "I'll be right back," he said.

"Okay. Take your time. Oh, and watch out, there's a big rat snake down at the creek." John looked right at home as he curled up around the eggs.

Rodney hurried, but it felt so good to fly after however long it had been. He got a drink, then stopped at the feeder for some good, fresh nyjer seed, then returned to the nest. "Thank you," he said, as he and John swapped places.

"It's cool, Rodney. I'll hang around... make sure no cats or anything come by." He flew to the porch railing, just at the edge of where Rodney could see. 

"Be careful!" Rodney said. The eggs were still nice and warm. "The people might come out too."

"Aw, they're all right." John fluttered to the big holly bush and crawled inside. "Most of 'em, anyway. Good night, Rodney!"

"Night, John." Rodney settled down, put his head under his wing and slept.

The morning was bright and warmer. He was just stretching his wings when the door next to the porch light opened. Surprised, he jumped up and flew to the nearby tree, hollering his displeasure. Though he could see a big people in the door, it stayed where it was and didn't come all the way out. John, who had left to get breakfast, flew back and landed on the railing, equally wary.

"John!" Rodney called. "You've got to move! They'll get you!"

John was poised for flight, but didn't leave. "I think it's okay," he said. "I think. C'mon back."

"But it's _people_! They're all maniacs!"

"Not all of 'em," John replied. He was still on the railing with one eye on the door and the other on Rodney. "Some of 'em just like to look."

Unable to stay away (his eggs would get cold!), Rodney carefully flew to the railing. The big people stood in the door, not moving, but Rodney was still wary. "Listen," he said, "we've got to be careful! These things, they keep _cats_ and dogs and sometimes worse, and they break up nests just for fun and this one, it came out the door when Sam and I were building the nest and _pushed it all out_ and we had it all just about finished perfectly and we had to start all over again..."

"Rodney. It's okay, buddy." John hopped closer to Rodney. "Go on, get back in the nest before the eggs get cold. I'll watch this one."

"You sure?" Rodney was getting increasingly nervous about being away from the nest.

"Yeah. These people, once, they came around and I thought they were gonna kill us, but they just took pictures. I think they're called 'bird watchers' or something goofy like that. I don't think this one'll hurt us."

"Well..." Rodney had to get back to the nest, it was essential. With John's reassurances, he fluttered quickly back up, making sure to sit so that he'd be able to see the door. Sure enough, the people at the door didn't come out and their life went back to normal.

A few days later, the eggs hatched, two of each, just like John wanted. The people became even weirder, pointing some damn thing into their faces a couple of times, but for the most part, they left the nest alone. It was all John and Rodney could do to keep four hungry, gaping mouths fed so they didn't have that much time to worry about it.

In due course, the babies left the nest. Rodney and John stood on the top of the porch light, wing to wing, looking wistfully into the empty nest. "You did good, Rodney," John said, bumping him with one shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess." He sighed. "With your help. I don't think I could have done it alone."

John bobbed his head, pleased. "Oh, sure you could have. But thanks, Rodney.

Rodney turned and gave him a puzzled look. "Hey, you know, I was wondering the other day... how come you don't have a nest and a missus of your own?"

"Well..." John shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Funny you should ask that...

Our tenants, otherwise known as the common house finch -- 

It's a terrible picture, but if you look closely, you'll see three little beaks. There is a fourth, though, we're pretty sure.  
  
And mama has quite a temper. ;-)


End file.
